


The Lighthouse

by TurtleNovas



Series: Amelioration [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Trauma, Season 1 & 2 canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 07:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleNovas/pseuds/TurtleNovas
Summary: Steve doesn't go to the hospital after that night in the tunnels.  It's a mistake, but luckily, Dustin checks in on him.





	1. Chapter 01

He's already thinking up excuses as he pulls in the driveway, mind whirring uselessly against the suffocating panic welling up in his chest, the raucous, demanding ache behind his eyes, the roil of nausea in his belly. It's not until he shifts into park and pulls the keys from the ignition that he realizes there are no lights on; remembers that, oh, his parents aren't even here. He thinks it should be a relief, can't understand why all he feels as he pulls himself shakily out of the car is a crushing sense of disappointment. He stands, hands braced on the roof of the car, and tries to breathe. He closes his eyes, ignoring the sharp and steady ache telling him they've swollen too big for his head. He listens for his heart to try pacing his breath, tries not to groan as he begins to feel the beat smashing across every broken part of his face. He swallows hard, clamps his mouth shut, and breathes as deep as he can through his undoubtedly broken nose. He feels the sting of tears behind his eyes and knows that if he lets them come it's only going to sear in the hastily bandaged cuts on his cheeks and chin. He releases the breath slowly, acutely aware of the heaving urge to vomit ripping its way through him. His hands clench tighter around the cold metal, and he breathes in again.

 _Come on_ , He tells himself, barely able to hear his own thoughts over the roar of his pulse. _Come on!_ He pushes himself resolutely away from the car, slams the door shut with as much force as he can mange, and marches in a wobbly, determined line towards the front door. "Inside," he whispers, voice grating harshly against the feeling of someone sitting on his chest. "Shower," he continues, struggling as the key slips over the hole, scraping uselessly at the knob. "Pain killers," he growls, finally shoving the key home. "Then sleep, " he concludes, shoving his way inside with a vicious groan.

When the door is shut behind him, he droops against it for a minute, catching his breath, urging the slosh of agony in his brain to subside as he tries to force his vision back into focus. "Shower. Pain killers. Sleep." He whispers to himself.

The water is too hot, but once he's collapsed on the floor of the tub, he's too tired to reach up to change it again. He sits, knees knocking softly against the porcelain, letting the grime of the day, the ash from the sphincter of death rinse away as it will. His hair falls, sopping into his face and he doesn't try to push it back, afraid that if he touches there, he might find his insides leaking out the holes. He doesn't try for soap either, not confident in his ability to coordinate that many motions at a time. Instead he just sits, skin scalding under the spray as he remembers the white hot flash of flame rushing up to greet him and his kids.

It's only when the water starts to cool that he remembers his plan. "Pain killers," he grits out as he turns, reaches out for the knob, and only gets it most of the way off before he's spilling over the edge of the tub, half crawling, half climbing, unable to orient himself to the room enough to stand. He's dizzy, he thinks, as the cold of the tile floor sinks into his palms and bare knees.

Again, he tries very hard not to vomit.

When the spell passes, he braces himself on the toilet and pushes into a crouch, resting again with his face on the seat before rising to a full stand. When he opens the medicine cabinet, his eyes won't focus on the labels, so he chooses the bottle smudged in red and hopes it's Tylenol. He realizes too late that he hadn't thought to bring a glass of water with him up the stairs, feels the persistent press of a sob against his throat when he considers climbing them again to get one. Instead, he swallows the pills dry and stumbles out into his bedroom.

When he lays down, he thinks he might be dreaming before his eyes are even closed - images of flower faced dogs full of teeth and bile, and kids running for their lives through tunnels of desecration and gore flashing across his ceiling. He lifts his hands to cover his face as the tears break, but realizes it'll only bring more pain if he touches there. He wonders if he should have gone to the hospital as things go dark in his left eye, but opts to simply close them both against the burn.

 


	2. Chapter 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Line break indicates POV change.
> 
> Also, check the end to a link to some lovely art for this chapter!!

He comes awake with the sort of shuddering gasp that would be a scream if he weren't already choking on his own panic. Someone is _wailing_ , and his vision is white as he surges up, wanting desperately to look around. He's almost certain someone has driven an ice pick through each of his eyes while he slept, and even as the room begins to resolve into shapes around him, the screaming in his ears won't stop. He tries to yell back, to ask whoever it is to shut the fuck up, but all he manages to force out is a spluttering grumble that seems to be trying to bring his stomach up with it. He shudders and puts his hands over his ears, trying not to moan as he jostles the swollen meat that is his face. He's about to yell again when, blessedly, silence takes over.

He breathes deep, tries not to choke on the taste of blood in his mouth as the echo of the noise starts to fade from his ears. When he opens his eyes again, slowly, he can see more clearly. Everything is still a bit hazy, like he's underwater, looking up into the sunlight, but he knows where he is, and that's progress. When the phone rings, it startles him and he jumps, sending another battering ram of pain across his face. He reaches back, fumbles for the handset, and after two more rings, finally manages to pick it up. It takes him another several seconds to manage bringing it to his ear, and when he does, he's greeted with a frantic torrent of speech from a voice he's sure he should recognize, but doesn't.

"Steve? STEVE? Steve can you hear me? Are you there? Why didn't you pick up? Steve? Are you okay? Steve? Steve I can hear you breathing, answer me!"

"Who is this?" he tries to say, just to make the person stop - hopefully long enough that he can think of a longer sentence - but the words come out in a jumble, tumbling together in a messy slur that even Steve himself doesn't quite understand. He's still trying to let his brain catch up, swallowing around a fresh wave of nausea, but the person on the other end just barrels on.

"I called Mike and he said no one had checked on you yet, so I got your number from Nancy, but then you didn't pick up and you sound really bad right now, Steve. I'm freaking the fuck out!"

It's a lot to process, and he still isn't really sure what's happening, but, "Nancy?" he tries to ask, slurring slightly less this time. "You don't sound like Nancy." He feels like his mouth is full of marbles, and the skin on his face pulls tight and aches gruelingly every time he moves his jaw. He hopes this conversation will be over soon so he can go back to sleep.

There is a long and blessed pause on the other end of the line, until finally the voice responds. "Hang up the phone, Steve," it tells him. "I'm gonna tell my mom and we're gonna come take you to the hospital."

Steve's not really sure what that means, or why they called in the first place if they were just gonna tell him to hang up. He tries to ask, but all that comes out is a garbled string of syllables that sound more like he's getting ready to retch. "Hang up the phone, Steve. I don't want you to drop it and have your line be busy."

Steve shrugs to himself, wincing as he tips his head too quickly. "Okay," he says, mostly intelligible, before leaning back to drop the phone onto the cradle. He lowers himself slowly onto the pillows, and tries to remember why he woke up in the first place.

 

* * *

 

Dustin slams the phone down, and is already halfway down the hall as he yells, "Mom!" in a panicked voice.

His mom comes rushing out of her room, hairbrush in hand, looking panicked and frantic as she asks, "Dusty? Sweetie? What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?"

Dustin holds up a placating hand, stopping her ramble. "One of my friends is hurt, and I just called him, and he sounds really bad, and I don't think his parents are home, but I think he needs to go to the hospital."

His mom's face drops, worry etching deep lines into her expression. "Which friend? Is it Will? I know he's been having such a hard time lately."

Dustin shakes his head. "No, it's not Will. You've never met him. His name is Steve. Mom, I think he's really in trouble. Please, I need you to take us and get him to the hospital."

She's already nodding, bustling back into her room as she says, "Okay Dusty. Should we call his parents? Do you know how to get to his house? Just let me finish getting dressed and we'll go."

"Shit," he says under his breath, and then a little louder, "Call his parents when we get there. I'm gonna call one of my friends to get directions to his house while you get ready."

He rushes back to the phone and dials Mike again. It's Mrs. Wheeler who picks up, and he bites back a swear as he asks for Nancy. There is a pause and a bit of static as she covers the mouthpiece to call for Nancy, and then Nancy's voice is on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Nancy, it's Dustin again. I need you to give me directions to Steve's."

He hears a sound like a scoff, and she replies, "What? Why?"

"Um, I dunno," he sneers, and is surprised by the venom in his own voice. "Maybe because he's hurt and went home alone last night and no one bothered to check on him, and I called him just now and he sounds like he's one hit to the head away from having permanently scrambled brains? Enough with the questions, just give me the directions!"

She starts to offer to go instead, but Dustin hasn't forgotten her showing up with Jonathan last night, and the pained look on Steve's face as he sent them away together, so he cuts her off with a stern, "No, Nancy. Just give me the directions."

He writes them down on the pad next to the phone and hangs up on her before she can delay him any further. When he turns to call for his mom, she's standing just behind him, still looking worried.

"I promise I'll explain later. I've got the directions, so can we go?"

She just nods and herds him towards the door, with a stream of motherly muttering. The ride doesn't take long - Hawkins is small, and even the richest part of town is only a few minutes away by car. When they arrive, he's out of the car and up the front path before his mom can even kill the engine. She's calling after him as he bangs on the doors and rings the doorbell simultaneously. After a few moments, his mom clears her throat and says, "Dusty, give him a chance to answer, would you?"

So Dustin does. He stands, shifting from foot to foot, listening as hard as he can for any sort of sound, and he thinks it's been at least a minute when he grunts in frustration and starts knocking again. "STEVE!" He's shouting loud enough that he hopes Steve can hear him, and his mom makes a little startled noise behind him. "STEVE COME ON. IF YOU DON'T ANSWER I WILL BREAK IN."

"Dusty!" She sounds scandalized, but he knows she wouldn't stop him. She knows he wouldn't do it if he didn't know Steve was in real trouble; at least not with her standing right there.

He grunts in frustration as he pauses again and still doesn't hear anything inside. He considers briefly that the sturdy double door may be very sound proof, but discards the notion almost immediately and begins jiggling the handle. He pushes experimentally and is surprised and a little relieved when the door opens. He didn't want to have to break in. Steve would have enough to explain to his parents already without adding a broken window to the tally. He turns back to his mom as he makes his way towards the stairs. "Can you see if his parents left a number on the fridge or anything to call? I'm gonna try to find his room."

She nods and hurries away into the nearest open room, presumably looking for the kitchen. Dustin takes the stairs two at a time, and nearly face plants when his foot catches in one of the spaces between them. He catches himself on the banister and is out of breath when he heads towards the nearest open door. It looks like a bedroom, but not Steve's. It's well decorated and looks unlived in - probably a guest room. He continues down the hall, calling Steve's name as he goes. The next door down is cracked, and he can hear noise coming from inside.

He's not quite prepared to find Steve lying curled on his side, clutching the sheets and shaking as he groans pathetically into the mattress. In the few seconds it takes him to get his feet moving again, he realizes that Steve seems to be trying to say something, so he leans close, careful not to touch and says much more quietly, "Steve, buddy? It's me, Dustin."

Steve freezes for a second, and then turns, agonizingly slowly towards him, uncurling as he goes. "Dusstiin?" he asks, small and shaky, slurred like when he'd just stumbled out of the car at the pumpkin patch.

Dustin tries to smile reassuringly, not to sound too worried when he says, "Yeah buddy. It's me. I called earlier, remember? My mom and I came to take you to the doctor."

Steve looks endearingly confused for a moment, his brow crumpling up as he opens his mouth to reply, but chokes out another groan instead. "Shiiiit," he mumbles, and Dustin has to catch his arm to keep him from curling in on himself again.

"Nononono, come on, you've gotta get up Steve." He pulls at Steve's arm, just enough pressure to be felt, but with no force behind it. "We've gotta get you to a doctor. You have a concussion."

Steve looks at him for what seems like a long time and seems to be thinking really hard, so Dustin stays quiet. Finally, he replies, "Conc'sshun. Makesssens."

Dustin just nods and tries to help him sit up further. He's cooperating now, but it's still slow going. He seems dizzy, or weak, maybe nauseated, possibly all three. He clutches at Dustin's arms hard enough to hurt and sways dangerously once he's sitting up fully, moaning miserably. "Okay," Dustin says, trying for a soothing tone. "That's good. Now we just need to..." He looks Steve over, trying to assess the best way to get him standing, and realizes that there's another thing to be done first. "Now we just need to get you some clothes."

He pries Steve's hands away from his arms, placing each one on the edge of the bed so he can brace himself. "Just sit tight, buddy. Try not to lie back down. I'm gonna find you some clothes."

Steve groans, and mutters something that sounds like, "Drawers."

Dustin nods, and quickly begins rifling through the chest of drawers on the far wall. He finds a t-shirt quickly enough, and then rustles up a pair of sweatpants two drawers later.

It takes him about a minute to wrestle a clumsily cooperating Steve into the t-shirt, but they're still trying to coordinate him into the pants when he hears his mom calling in the hall outside.

"In here!" He calls, and then quickly, "But don't come in!" He doesn't want to embarrass Steve, and Steve mumbles gratefully at him. Finally, a few minutes later, they're successful, and Steve hobbles towards the doorway, leaning heavily on Dustin's shoulder.

He's swaying drunkenly, stumbling every few steps, and Dustin tries to settle him with a hand around his back, but there's only so much someone as short as he is can do. When they come into the hall, Steve leans heavily against the wall. "Dizzy," he says, almost coherently.

"Okay, just take a minute." He pats Steve on the shoulder and turns to where his mom is standing, shifting nervously, humming quietly in despair. "He'll probably need us both to help down the stairs. Did you find a number to call?"

She shakes her head. "No, there wasn't anything where I could see." She turns to Steve. "Steve?" She says in her best mom voice. "My name is Claudia. I'm Dustin's mom."

Steve's head shoots up, eyes wide, and Dustin winces in sympathy as he groans at the sudden movement. Still, it's a valiant effort when he replies, "Nice to meet you Mrs. Henderson." It's almost perfect, like the surprise of his mom shocked the slur out of him for a minute.

"Nice to me you, too, sweetie." She smiles at him encouragingly, and Dustin is always grateful for having such a great mom, but right now, the gratefulness feels especially special. "Do you know if there is a number I can use to call your parents? Dusty and I are gonna take you to the hospital, but I want to let them know where you are."

Steve lets out a little huff at that, almost a laugh, and seems to be trying very hard to enunciate when he replies, "They won't care."

Dustin resists the urge to squeeze Steve's shoulder, pats him gently instead, wanting to give him a hug, but pretty sure that will make things worse. He looks at his mom and tries to convey in his expression that he's okay with it if she wants to abandon him and adopt Steve instead. She just gives an unhappy little sigh and tries again. "I'm sure that's not true honey. They should know what's happening."

Steve lowers his head to rest against the wall and it looks like he's trying really hard just to breathe. "Hotel pam-pamf," he pauses, breathes deeply again. "Pamphlet. Drawer next to fridge."

His mom nods. "Okay, sweetheart. That's good. Thank you. I'll give them a call and then we can head out. But let's try to get down the stairs first, okay?"

Steve nods slowly, and pushes himself off the wall and into Dustin like it's the hardest thing he's ever done, like it's more stress just to walk down the stairs than it was to go into those tunnels and keep them all safe like his own life didn't even matter. It makes Dustin's stomach hurt, and his heart beat extra fast for a few seconds, and he hates himself a little bit for letting Steve go home alone last night, even if there was really nothing he could've done to stop it. (He thinks, though, that if he had asked Steve if he wanted to stay over with them, Steve would have said yes, and it makes it easy to hang on to the guilt.)

When they do finally get down the stairs, Steve looks like he might collapse and not be able to get back up, so Dustin takes the keys from his mom and steers Steve towards the car while she goes to call the hotel. Steve is trying really hard, but he does swerve sharply into Dustin every few steps, clutching tightly at his arms in an effort to stay up right. "Sssoryy," he slurs, but Dustin just shushes him.

"Let's just get you in the car." He shakes his head a bit after they've made some slow progress down the long drive. "Man, how did you even do all that shit last night?"

"'Drenaline," Steve replies, matter of fact.

Dustin nods. "I bet your symptoms are worse because of the crash." He resists the urge to ramble on about the effects of heightened adrenaline and the subsequent withdraw symptoms when everything calms down again, because he knows that's just his worry and nerves wanting him to fill the silence.

Steve doesn't say anything, and the car door is in reach, so Dustin leans him against the side as he pulls the passenger door open. "Let's get you in the back, okay?"

Steve seems to have an easier time crawling in than anything else, probably because it's easier for him to go down than to stay up. Dustin sighs and slides in next to him, reaching over to pull the seat belt over Steve's body. "Here we go, buddy. Let's just get you buckled up, and then you can rest."

Steve looks at him and smiles, and it sort of makes Dustin feel like crying. After everything that's happened, seeing Steve like this hurts almost a little too much. "Thanks, bud," Steve says quietly.

Dustin tries to smile back, tries to be comforting, just like he tried last night in the car, when they dragged Steve to the edge of death instead of taking him to the hospital like they should have. "Don't worry about it. You took care of all us. I'm not gonna leave you with no one to take care of you. And neither will my mom." He pats Steve gently on the knee. "She'll make sure you're okay. I promise."

"You're a good kid," is all Steve says in return, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ART!!](https://blumeshullman.deviantart.com/art/Amelioration-725211447?ga_submit_new=10%3A1515792244)  
>  Thank you so much to [BlumShullman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BlumeShullman) for drawing this amazing art. I'm so humbled and excited that anyone would want to draw art for this fic! (Please go check it out, it's really great. )


	3. Chapter 03

It doesn't take the ER long to check Steve in once they realize the state of him, and within an hour, he's laying in a hospital bed with an iv drip in his arm, covered in blankets, and pain killers on the way. Dustin cringes and has to look away while they dig for a vein, wants to reach up and cover his ears as they complain about how dehydrated Steve is, only Steve had grabbed his hand when they started poking and Dustin isn't willing to let go. After the nurse is gone, Steve reluctantly uncurls his fingers, gives a watery laugh when he explains, "I really hate needles."

Dustin just nods, and isn't sure what to say, feeling sad and guilty, and all kinds of bad. His mom saves him when she pats Steve's arm and says warmly, "A lot of people do, kiddo. Don't you worry."

Steve just nods, and lets his head fall back as he closes his eyes. He looks exhausted and young, like the night before drained all the fight out of him. Dustin can't really blame him - when rampaging hell dogs aren't even the worst thing you have to deal with in an evening, he thinks it's enough to break anyone. When the doctor finally comes in and asks Steve what happened, the look on his face is so helpless that Dustin answers for him.

"He got mugged," he says, a little too loud, then adds, "We were...coming home from the arcade and a guy tried to mug us. Steve was protecting us, and...we didn't see the guy's face or anything, but Steve tried to stop him and got beaten up." He can't make eye contact with anyone when he continues, "He felt okay last night, so he just went home, but he wasn't doing good when I checked on him this morning, so we brought him here." The lies curl like rot in his stomach, leeching poison out into his body, making it hard for him to hold back his anger. Steve deserves better than a bunch of lies, deserves for the world to know how hard he tried to keep them all safe, but Dustin can't give it all away like that, doesn't want to worry his mom, or make Max's life even harder by pointing fingers at Billy.

Dustin doesn't hear what the doctor says next, doesn't notice when his mom gets up to leave to fill out paperwork. He's too busy staring at the floor, trying to keep himself from frowning suspiciously hard. It's not until he realizes that Steve is reaching for his hand again that he looks up, and Steve, bless him, is smiling. It looks painful, pulling at his swollen, split open face, but he's giving Dustin an encouraging look when he grates out, "Nice thinking, bud. You said the right thing."

Dustin just frowns, unable to stop looking at Steve's face, cataloging all the injuries, thinking how they could've done much better for him last night when he was trying so hard for them. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "We shouldn't have dragged you to those tunnels. I shouldn't have dragged you with me to get Dart. If I had just left you alone this wouldn't have happened." He's scandalized to realize that he's actually crying a little, feels the heat behind his eyes and notices the edges of his vision going blurry. Honestly, he hasn't really had much time to think about yesterday, but now, like this, it's all coming over him. They would have all been dead meat if Steve hadn't been there (and by “all”, he means _everyone_ , _the whole town, anyone that the Mind Flayer would've gotten_ , but especially he means him and his stupid friends who tried to take on the world all by themselves). It wasn't like Steve had some sort of special power or training. He was just a normal guy, but he still did his best to protect them and take care of them, and they had all been such _assholes_ about it. Dustin wipes fervently at his eyes, trying hard to curb the tears, and thinks that he's never felt more like a child than in this moment.

"Hey," Steve says softly, sounding more coherent now that he's not apparently dying of dehydration. He grabs Dustin's wrist in a gentle grip. "Hey," he says again. "You don't have to be sorry. I at least sort of knew what I was getting into. It was my choice. I'm glad I was there." He squeezes Dustin's arm weakly. "If I hadn't been there, no one would've stopped him and you guys wouldn't have even _made it_ to the tunnels. And if we hadn't gone into those tunnels, the girl wouldn't have been able to...close the...thingy, right? And then we'd all be fucked." Dustin looks up at him and he's still smiling, and it's gentle and full of absolution, and Dustin sort of wonders if this it what it feels like to have a Dad, or a brother, or someone (anyone) who takes care of you and isn't your wonderful, but overworked and exhausted mom.

He can't think of anything to say, so he just sort of launches himself at Steve, tries to hug him as gently as possible, is gratified when he feels Steve awkwardly hugging him back. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were a douchebag," he chokes, muffled by the fabric of Steve's tshirt.

Steve just laughs quietly. "You and and everybody else, I guess." Dustin hugs him harder in defiance of that notion.

* * *

 

Apparently, they need to keep Steve overnight for observation, and Dustin's not allowed to stay, because he's not family. Which is bullshit. Which Dustin told them, only for his appalled mother to scold him and apologize on his behalf. Dustin is still pouting when he gets in the car, but his mom's worried face gets him, just like it does every time, and he softens up after a minute. "Thanks, Mom."

She's quiet for a long time before she says, "I'm glad you felt you could come to me about this. Steve seems like a very nice young man."

"He's awesome," Dustin replies, almost angry, ready to fight any invisible person who might pop up in the back seat and disagree.

His mom nods, and then her face settles, determined. "So," she says, in her best stern mom voice. "Do you want to tell me what actually happened?"

Dustin freezes, pauses for long enough that it's incriminating, tries to sound convincing when he responds, "I told the doctor what happened." He's panicking a little bit, but is proud that he sounds at least mostly normal.

His mom sighs, and he winces inwardly. "Dusty, you know I can always tell when you're lying. I don't want to make you feel bad, because you did a good thing for Steve today, but I don't like it when you lie to me."

Dustin deflates, a different kind of guilt edging into him, and thinks for a long moment about what to say. He settles on an abbreviated truth. He doesn't want to bring his mom in on their horrible, terrifying new world, but she deserves something. "It wasn't...it wasn't a mugger, okay? It was one of our friends' brothers. Steve was over at Will's, helping babysit us, and he came looking for her, and...things just got out of control.

“But mom, it wasn't Steve's fault, okay? He tried to keep everything calm but this dude is crazy. Like, really bad crazy, and he was gonna beat up Lucas, and Steve tried to stop him, and mom he just...we all thought he was going to kill him until Max knocked him out from behind.

“And I know I should tell the cops, but I don't want to make life harder for Max, because she still has to live at home, and she'll get in big trouble if her brother gets in trouble. It's just really complicated, so please, please don't call her parents or anything. Steve wouldn't want you to! And besides, Max told him off really good and he promised to leave us alone from now on, so it's gonna be okay."

His mom looks pained, her face all scrunched up as she stares resolutely at the road ahead. "Dustin, honey. I know you think you're doing what's best, but this is...this isn't something that we should overlook. If Max is having trouble at home, she needs an adult to help her."

Dustin makes a panicked noise. "No mom! It will just make things worse for her. Please, I swear it's handled and he's going to leave everyone alone now."

She makes a little unhappy noise, and is quiet for another seemingly endless stretch before answering, "Okay Dusty. I'll make a deal with you. We'll sit on it this time, but if you hear or see anything suspicious that makes you think your friend is having trouble again, I want you to come to me immediately, okay?"

Dustin nods frantically. "Yes, okay, it's a deal. I will keep an eye out, I promise."

His mom sighs unhappily again, and he can tell she doesn't think this is the right thing to do, but she's always been so worried about him having friends, about him _keeping_ his friends that he knows she'll let her conscience go on this as long as he doesn't say anything more. It makes him feel like shit, but still, he's relieved.

The next morning, they're back at the hospital, and the nurses tell them that Steve's parents finally got in touch overnight, but only to say they simply won't be able to come home to take care of him. Dustin feels scorn and rage bubble up inside of him, and it's a horrible, foreign way to feel. It's all he can do to keep the lid on the tantrum that is boiling inside of him. He feels like an immature child, but he's heard that part of growing up is not always giving in to the urge to show your anger, so he holds onto it, and decides to use it to fuel good things. Things like convincing his mom to let Steve come home with them, so that he doesn't have to spend a week in the hospital with no one around but nurses and doctors who don't really give a shit.

It's an easy sell once his mom realizes that the Harringtons have already said it's alright if Steve wants to go home with someone else. Dustin can see in her eyes that he comes by his scorn naturally.

So they take Steve home with them, equipped with several bottles of medicine (prescription pain killers, anti-nausea medication, some antibiotic ointment for his face), and strict instructions to keep him on bed rest for at least a week, and to call back if his symptoms get worse again or don't begin to improve in a day or two. Steve tries to protest, valiant, but clearly exhausted and feeling low. They both ignore him in favor of writing down everything the doctor says and forcing him to ride the wheel chair to the door instead of walking.

When they get home, after Dustin and his mom discuss where Steve will be staying while Steve stands idly by (they decide on Dustin's room, as they don't have a guest bed, and the couch simply won't do), Steve collapses into Dustin's mom, hugging her tightly and whispering an agonized, "Thank you," into her shoulder that makes Dustin want to personally grab the baseball bat and pay a visit to Steve's parents. Dustin's mom hugs him for a really long time, gently spilling comforting words into his ears, and Dustin would've honestly complained if she let him go any sooner.

 

 


	4. Chapter 04

The five days that Steve spends with them are easy. Surprisingly so, Dustin thinks, considering he and his mom have been living as a unit for over ten years now with no intrusions. Steve fits remarkably well into their daily routine, and is eager to pitch in wherever he can (even though that normally gets him yelled at by Dustin's mom for exerting himself before he's ready). Dustin will never forget the image of his mom physically dragging Steve back to bed, even though he was still wearing the soapy rubber gloves for washing the dishes. If he gives himself a second to think about it, a sort of happy melancholy settles over Dustin and he wonders if this is what it would've been like if they'd always had someone around for them. Probably not, he thinks. Steve is just a very special person, as evidenced by basically everything he has done.

For a quick moment, Dustin thinks about Nancy, and about how insane she must be to have let Steve go, but then he reminds himself that the heart wants what it wants, and she did the right thing letting him go if she didn't love him. Still, he feels bad for Steve; knows he must be hurting, and not just from their wild adventures with demons from the other side. He tries to be extra gentle with him whenever possible, and even when Steve calls him a dipshit, or a shithead, or whatever other name, Dustin can see how soft he is around the eyes, can hear the fondness in his voice, and thinks that, after this, he's probably gonna try to keep Steve around forever. He even thinks that Steve probably won't complain.

It helps that Dustin's mom clearly likes him, too. Dustin never would've guessed from his previous interactions with Steve, but he's actually extremely polite, and generous, and grateful, and he treats Dustin's mom like the queen Dustin knows she really deserves to be. It makes him want to smile and cry all at once, because his mom looks so _happy_ to have someone ask her how she's doing, and to please, tell him more about the Halloween decorations she still hasn't taken down. He listens to her talk about Mews, and takes her hand gently in his when she starts to get a little misty eyed, and tells her that he knows there's no platitude that will take away her pain, and Dustin just thinks, _Wow_ , because that's exactly what his mom needed to hear, but he'd been unable to think to say it. All this, Steve does while in pain, and frequently disoriented, often slurring, though all of those things do lessen over the course of the next few days, which is a massive relief to everyone involved.

When the time comes for them to drive Steve home, it feels like he's become part of their family already, and Dustin is extremely reluctant to let him go. Steve seems to feel the same, although he's putting on a brave face. Before they head out, Dustin's mom makes sure to pull Steve aside and let him know that he's welcome in their home anytime, even on short notice, whether there's an emergency or not.

Steve just nods, and looks a little suspiciously wet in the eyes when he says, "Thank you, it means a lot."

 


	5. Chapter 05

The drive home is deafeningly quiet and it takes everything Steve has to keep his mouth shut and not beg to turn around and go back to the Hendersons' place. He knows he's in deep shit, and that he's in for the reaming of a lifetime as soon as he walks in the door, but he also knows that if he lets on that he is, frankly, afraid of the confrontation, it won't do anyone any good. It will just make Dustin and Claudia (because, "Mrs. Henderson is a woman who is married to a man that left a long time ago) worry more, and he'll just be in more trouble if he stays away longer than he's supposed to. Still, it doesn't make the weight of the silence any easier.

He's grateful when Dustin looks at him with pity and says, "I hope you know you have to come over for Dinner on Tuesday. I have a big test Wednesday, and I really need the help studying."

They both know that's bullshit, because Steve is an idiot, and Dustin could probably ace the tests Steve is failing in high school, but Steve just smiles, nods, and replies, "Sure thing, bud. Looking forward to it," as if it all really is that easy.

His father's face is positively frigid when he opens the front door and stands there, watching them pull up the driveway. Steve feels himself go tense all over and tries not to look at Dustin or Claudia, knowing he'll give himself away if he makes eye contact. They all sit still for a moment once she puts the car in park, and it's tense, like everyone in the car is aware that he's walking into the line of fire. He takes a deep breath, opens the door and tries not to let his voice waver when he says, "Thank you for everything," and steps out.

"Son," his father says icily when Steve is close enough to hear him.

"Dad," he replies, and is angry that his voice comes out sounding frail and intimidated.

And then Dustin is there, jogging up the path and shouting, "Mr. Harrington! Hi!"

He crowds his way up next to Steve, and sticks his hand out forcibly into his dad's personal space. Steve tries not to let his eyes bug out as Dustin continues determinedly. "I'm Dustin. Nice to meet you." And Dustin, god help him, stands there making direct eye contact with Steve's obviously incredibly annoyed father until the man takes his hand in a brief, vicious shake. Dustin just smiles, as if he hasn't caught on (but he's smart, and Steve _knows_  he did), and continues, "I just wanted you to know that Steve is really quite a hero. He saved my friends and me from getting mugged, even though he didn't have to. He fought off a guy twice his size, just to make sure we were all safe, and we would all probably be in really bad shape if it weren't for him."

There is a long, heavy burst of silence while Steve's father attempts to intimidate Dustin with eye contact, but the kid never falters, just continues to look on with a hard, cheerful smile on his face, waiting for Steve's dad to give a reply. Steve thinks it might be the most gratifying thing he's ever experienced when the man finally nods curtly and says, "Duly noted. Thank you for the glowing review of my own son's behavior."

Dustin just keeps smiling cheekily and replies, "No problem, sir. I just thought you should know. He's a hero and I'm going to tell everyone in town how great he is, so they'll all know."

Steve is flabbergasted, if he's being completely honest with himself. He knew Dustin was being cheeky, but this is flat out manipulation. This thirteen year old little shit just waltzed up to his front door and vaguely threatened Steve's father - let him know that everyone will know that Steve was doing good, and that punishing him won't be received well by anyone. How he's caught on that the family image is the most important thing to Steve's father, Steve will never know.

He feels warm affection rush through him, and can't help but smile and he ruffles Dustin's hair and says, "Hey, thanks, man. I can take it from here. I'll see you Tuesday."

Dustin turns to him, and the hardness leaves his expression. "Great! We'll see you then. Mom's making her famous manicotti. It's an old family recipe."

Steve grins, and almost manages to forget that his father is even there, still standing stonily, with his arms crossed over his chest like some sort of angry gargoyle. "Looking forward to it, kid."

He watches as Dustin runs back down the path, follows the trail of their car until it disappears into the trees, and the warmth doesn't leave him, even through the yelling, and the scolding, and the disapproval. He knows when he goes to bed that night that, even though he's been grounded, he'll be going to dinner on Tuesday night, whether his parents approve or not.  He sleeps well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I called this, "The Lighthouse" because the Hendersons are like a lighthouse for Steve - a beacon in the dark, guiding him to safe haven.


End file.
